Daedric
by ProfessorScrooge
Summary: Once upon a time Talos became an Aedra. The Dragonborn decides to follow his example, but sets her sights on Oblivion instead... Fem-Dovahkin, Dark, One-Shot.


**A/N: Okay, this is a bit dark, even for me, so warning of serious weird shit including but not limited to cannibalism. Didn't come out quite how I wanted it, but such is life.**

 **Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING, property of Bethesda etc.**

Daedric

This was the day. The final day. For so long she had sought the power to be able to do this, scheming and biding her time, committing acts great and terrible.

If her younger self could see her now, she perhaps would have died rather than become this.

As Rulain descended deep into the stone ruins she felt the words of Odahviing flitter through her mind. All Dovah have a lust for power, and hers had been awakened by her quests. She smiled slightly beneath the mask of her Nightingale armour; it had been different back then, when she had a reason for the greater good to gather those first Daedric artefacts. Discovering the Dawnbreaker, and gaining the position of Nightingale was all to further the cause of saving Skyrim, defeating Alduin before the dragon tore it all asunder.

Gaining the Wabbajack had had an effect on her perhaps, loosened her mind to the things she would later do.

Five years it had been, since she first set foot in this place, Bleak Falls Barrow, slaying her first Draugr. A child at nineteen, matured to an adult body but not yet fully aware of the world. Now the Draugr's restless bodies parted around her as she walked deeper into the ruins, knowing _her_ as their master now.

Mayhap, it was all the souls she had absorbed, all those dragons who cared only for themselves and their own power, that she had made a part of her own being, fuelling her words of power. Alduin's death had left her changed for sure, suddenly bereft and purposeless, yet filled with the desire for something.

That was where Molag Bal had influenced her, his mace had proved so tempting and a priest she had never known was an easy sacrifice, as was another worshipper of Daedra, they hadn't mattered.

Most likely though, it was the ring upon her finger that had changed everything. Had warped her mind into hunger; for flesh and for power.

She licked her tainted lips at the thought of the first time she had tasted human flesh, and unlike Namira's other followers, she didn't just like it, she _craved_ it. Countless men and women had fallen before her blade in these past few years, but it never meant so much as when she could taste them and feel the empowerment that came from it.

The desire for more had become uncontrollable, her lust for power created by these Daedric artefacts, or by her Dovahkin birth right, or by souls she had taken, or just by her very nature, it did not matter.

Long months she had spent, tracking down Daedric Princes, doing their bidding as she became champion, servant, whatever was needed to gain their approval. Blood she had let, principles she had shed, even her humanity so as to further the obsession that consumed her soul as a plan formed. A desire to become more, to reach the ultimate point of attainment.

And now she had the final piece.

The book weighed heavy over her back, the bag slung over the cape of her armour. Oghma Infinium. Bound with the flesh of the Prince's followers, containing the knowledge unknowable, different to each who had held it.

She did not weep when the Prince had killed his previous servant, though she mourned the loss of sweet meat when he dissolved into the air. She had tried to keep down her manic grin beneath the mask as she stood before the faceless being, intoning the same pledge of the new follower she had given so many times before.

Honestly, for immortal beings, they could be so stupid. Did they never watch the mortal plane and see her? See her dealing with each of their counterparts in turn, slowly gaining power as vassal of each one?

It mattered not she supposed, opening the doors to the final chamber in these fell ruins. None of her undead minions ventured past these doors, seemingly wary of what lay within.

Rulain stood for a moment, taking in the sight of her preparations, drawing an unnecessary breath into dead lungs. Everything was ready; the book was the last part.

She walked inside the circle of Daedric Runes carved into the stone floor, each one stained crimson with magical blood. The circle of artefacts just within were all perfectly aligned, pointing within, giving off an aura of dark power that was likely the reason for even the dead fearing the room. Finally there was the centre, surrounded by three dozen black soul gems filled with the power of Dremora, and the final in Azura's Star embedded in the lectern at the central point.

Rulain stepped up to the lectern, and pulled her bag off her shoulder. From within she first drew the sacred book, setting it beside the golden Elder Scroll already on the lectern. Secondly, she pulled a dark red heart from within, pulling down her mask to give it a light lick as she did, exposing her pale skin and red lips. On any other night, a Daedra heart would be a delicacy she would revel in devouring, but this one was needed for greater purpose.

Placing the heart down on the lectern, she stopped for a moment. ' _This is it_ ,' flitted through her mind as she took a moment to bask in the feeling of being surrounded by all these items, suffusing the room with their power. All her work had been towards this moment, and everything was ready. An artefact from each of the Daedric Princes, containing a portion of their strength, souls of lesser Daedra, a heart to focus the spell, the runes to guide it, the vampiric form to empower, and an Elder Scroll to channel the power.

This was to be perhaps the darkest spell ever uttered in all of Tamriel, and certainly one of the greatest pieces of magic wrought since Talos himself. After all, it was he who had inspired her. For if the Dovahkin could become Aedra; why not Daedra?

Pushing thoughts from her mind, Rulain took to the task at hand. A gauntlet was shed from her left hand, and a protruding blade on the lectern used to cut it, sending dark red to drip down onto runes and channels that slowly lit up with magic. Wind whipped around the chamber as the sigils activated, preparing to compound what was coming inwards towards her as the air shimmered.

She reached a hand forward, and flipped open the book to a seemingly random page, and gazed upon the text within. Her mouth was chanting the mix of skewed Dovahzul and Daedric language before she even knew what was happening, skimming the glyphs as her words filled the space. As the last syllable passed her scarlet lips she pulled the Elder Scroll from its place on top of the lectern, and pulled it open before her face.

Seeing it there was incomprehensible, a million thoughts battered her mind as her body was equally battered as the spell ripped through the chamber deep in the heart of the earth. The glowing glyphs on the scroll burned into her eyes and into her mind, this was not supposed to be looked upon by a mortal. A scream was ripped from her, loud and long as shadowy power parted the air and smashed into her form.

At last, the magic pulled apart her body, and the burned and broken Nightingale armour dropped to the floor empty. Calm befell the room as the winds and magic tearing through ceased, leaving only ruined weapons and armour behind, shattered crystal and burnt out runes littering what floor remained intact. Every artefact that had previously burned with dark auras was now silent, burnt and blackened with any previous power gone.

After a long few moments though, the shadows seemed to shift slightly. They leaned almost into where there was light filtering down a moment before. In seconds they had dropped all pretence of staying where they should and rushed inwards, plunging the room into blackness as it coalesced in the centre of the ruined circle.

There, a shape formed. On her knees, leaning back and facing the ceiling, Rulain opened her eyes. A breath loosed past her lips in a body that should not exist.

She stared up at the stone for a second, noting the detail the rocky surface now seemed to have. Upon looking down, she was somewhat surprised by her form. She was draped in black cloth, which dipped to show some of her ample breasts before swooping up into a hood from which a few of her red locks of hair fell. A gorget of ebony dark metal lined in lustrous gold adorned her slender pale neck, just above a breastplate of one piece of gilded black metal. The cloth stopped over her right shoulder, while her left was covered in a pauldron. Both forearms were covered in slender black vambraces of the same design as her other armour. A bloody red sash was tied loosely around her waist, below which a slit in the dress exposed one perfectly lissom leg which ended in tied black leather open toe shoes that were little more than a sole and some straps.

Upon moving to stand up, she noticed that her right hand was gripping something smooth and cylindrical. Lifting it, she beheld a staff of the same black metal that ended in a glass piece lined in gold not dissimilar to a jar, which was filled with a burning bloody crimson fire. These were not welcoming, flickering orange flames, but clearly magical, and malevolent red.

She used her staff to push herself up to her feet, noting the ease and gracefulness she automatically felt. It did not escape her notice that her skin was even paler than before, and smoother, as well as being more feminine with the larger bust she had always longed for as a teen. Gone were the scars of battle, the muscles of the warrior, and the animalistic traits gained as a vampire. With a whispered few words, water was drawn forth in the chamber to a shimmering stop in front of her, where it formed a mirror of sorts.

Rulain let out a gasp at her new features. Though shrouded in shadow of the hood, her face was truly beautiful, the kind men would die for and women would kill for. Aside from the shape that was no-longer sharp and twisted, her lidded, seductive eyes had long lashes, and a scarlet iris. She smiled with dark red lips at her reflection.

She had become perfection.

"What have you done?!" a voice loud and terrible filled the chamber, causing her to lose concentration on the water mirror.

Around her the air began to shimmer, and the room to quiver with contained power as the recognisable avatars of the Daedric Princes came into being around the room.

"This is wrong," pronounced Molag Bal from directly in front of her.

"No, it's interesting," giggled Sheogorath from the corner of the room.

"That it is," agreed Nocturnal, a hand upon her chin as she regarded Rulain. "I have to hand it to you champion, this I did not expect when first I saw you."

"Champion? She's my champion," the dragon, Peryite, exclaimed.

"She has courted all of us," Nocturnal stated, smiling slightly, "if any of you were actually paying attention to the mortal plane you'd know this."

"Oh, I've been watching her plans unfold," Boethiah added.

"You knew of this and did not inform us?" Bal demanded.

"Well you did have her kill one of my followers," she replied.

"And it was interesting to see if she would succeed in her ambition," Mephala said. "Which she has."

"A mortal cannot-," Peryite protested.

"Talos," Mephala interrupted simply.

"You all stood by and allowed this?" Bal thundered out.

"Not all of us knew, but we are all responsible for this," Sanguine answered from where he was considering her. "We all sought to make her give in to dark temptations, make her will our own as we all have for so many followers. That she took to those temptations is exactly what each of us sought."

"You are supportive of this?" Peryite asked, "it goes against the natural order of things."

"How could we not be?" Namira answered, "it is in our nature to favour those who follow our principles. And she has."

"She is not fit to-," Rulain decided to interrupt whatever Molag Bal was about to say by banging her staff on the stone floor, causing a ripple of crimson flame to spread outwards. The fire did not hurt the Daedra, but got their attention at least.

"This talk matters not," she stated slowly. "I am Rulain. And I am Daedra of death, lust and power." She smiled, showing sharp white teeth, "the things that interest me basically."

"You insolent whelp," he replied angrily.

"Whatever you call me, it will not change what I now am. Nor where, which is the other interesting part," she spun on the spot with her statement, gesturing to the cavern like dwelling deep in the mountainside. Some of the group looked confused, while others like Boethiah and Nocturnal were smiling. Sheogorath looked like he was trying not to giggle. "While I am not fully powered yet, I still reside within the mortal plane, not Oblivion. And as such, that means I'm capable of certain things, like, I don't know, portals?" Her grin was predatory as her few detractors' expressions froze. It amused her that despite all the posturing, these deities still behaved like the mortals they looked so poorly upon.

The cheering was rampant around the makeshift arena. Women in red and black corsets with white skirts all lined in gold cheered and jeered in equal measure for the two bare-chested men fighting each other.

Rulain smiled down at her followers, the 'Sisterhood of the Night' as she called them. Gifted with power from more than one Daedric Prince.

Each had a ring upon their finger, pale skin and beautiful features. And each had ruby red lips that seemed to glisten under the night sky.

Her followers had been gathered and carefully selected, moulded to a way of thinking wherein they had no inhibitions, and were all dedicated to their lady, as well as a few other choice things.

They were all up in the mountains, on the opposite side of Solitude. Their 'workforce' was slowly carving a temple out of the marble rock, with a great throne room where lay a circle being carved as part of the walls, floor and ceiling encompassing the shape of the whole room, just behind her throne of course. If there was to be a portal from which Oblivion would emerge, then it would be in a place of grandeur.

The followers were not yet many, but enough. Three dozen women in all of Skyrim, just over half of which were down below this slight dais in the main room from where she observed.

Every few days, there would be at least two male captives, lured in by seductively beautiful women. Waking up here was enough of a nightmare, then being given a sword and told to fight for your life against another man was terrifying.

Rulain smiled as a cry was given, one man falling backwards with a deadly slash across his chest. With shouts of glee, the women descended upon the still dying man, tearing, ripping and biting at the sweet hot flesh. Youth and beauty did not keep forever without a sacrifice, and those ruby lips denoted the choice each had made.

The remaining man was standing stock still as he was ignored by the crowd, a look of disgust mixed with a large amount of fear present on his features. She slammed the base of her staff into the ground once, gaining his attention. She made a come hither gesture that made him visibly gulp at coming near this dark woman who exuded power. It may have been only a few months, and though she was not omniscient yet, but her manifested strength increased slowly.

As the Nord approached, his skin was pale, though still not matching her own ethereal porcelain colouring.

"On your knees," she nearly whispered at him, watching him instantly drop to his knees in front of her. She stepped around behind him, and leaned down by his shoulder to speak in the same intimidatingly quiet voice. "Well done, you have survived your ordeal. As such, you have won the right to serve me in this place." The man visibly relaxed and brightened somewhat at the thought of surviving.

Rulain waited for a moment, allowing the relief to settle in before her favourite part. With no small sense of satisfaction, her white hand plunged into his back, with a cracking sound as she passed through bone to grasp his still beating heart and pull it out the other side. She grinned as she caressed the bloody organ, allowing the man to see his own heart in his last few moments before collapsing forward over her outstretched limb. She laughed lightly at the sight of the body on the floor, they were always so stupid. She reached out the end of her staff into his chest cavity, and allowed magic to flow along her form.

"Rise, and serve me," she ordered, red flame bristling around the end of the metal. As she withdrew, there was a still burning fire suspended in that hole in his chest. The man slowly pushed himself up off the ground, eyes completely blank as he walked over to a side exit and disappeared to join her ever expanding workforce of builders. Rulain looked down at her bloodstained arm then, and the flesh still gripped in her fingers. It was then she noticed for the first time a figure standing apart from the others. The girl had to be eighteen or so, perhaps younger, and dressed as the others with a ring on her finger. But her lips were still a light pink. She knew there was an initiate tonight, and it looked like she was apprehensive at joining the revelry as her sisters were. "Come here," Rulain commanded to the girl, making her jump and dash over.

"Yes milady," she replied quickly, standing before Rulain with no small amount of fear.

"Tip your head back," she ordered. The girl did as bid, closing her eyes and leaning her head backwards. As Rulain brought her hand up, she opened her mouth, seemingly foreseeing what was coming. Rulain held up the grasped organ, and squeezed, making blood drip down onto the girl's lips where Rulain used two fingers to smear them fully across the pink flesh. "Drink, and embrace your true self."

Once Rulain removed her fingers, the girl's tongue slipped out to lick her lips enthusiastically, the taste already in her from a few loose drops, creating the thirst for more. As her tongue swept over flesh, it left behind lips forever stained blood red like the others.

"Go, join your sisters," Rulain commanded, causing the girl to fall from revelling in the taste to practically leaping into the fray below to get a taste of flesh to satisfy her new hunger. Rulain chuckled lightly, tearing off a piece of sweet meat from the heart she still held, enjoying the taste that was so good regardless of her body. Turning around, she regarded the unfinished portal at the back of the room. "Soon. Soon there will be rivers of blood across the land."


End file.
